


Warden at the Gate

by Toshi_Nama



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 10:57:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13902588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/pseuds/Toshi_Nama





	Warden at the Gate

“Traveler at the gate!”

Cassandra sighed. Cullen and Safeyya were gone…somewhere in Ferelden, on a diplomatic… _thing_ for Josephine. _She_ was tied up dealing with the nobles who hadn’t taken the hint and were still fishing for advantage. Better the Antivan than her – they would have been thrown off the side of the mountain by now, if she’d had her way. She looked around. “Blast.” The Captains were down in with the army, drilling in preparation for Corypheus’ next move. That left her to deal with this ‘traveler’ who didn’t stop at the main encampment, but insisted on coming up to Skyhold itself.

The gate was opening as she moved closer. “I do not have time for this today.” She had promised to help Cullen with the reports, but that was before she realized just how many reports he had to deal with! Training schedules, sentry schedules, discipline, quartermasters, the stables, the surgeons – he couldn’t return soon enough, as far as she was concerned. Unfortunately, it would be another week at the least. This was a distraction, but would certainly mean either more paperwork, or more meetings. “Five minutes. This traveler will either have a good reason, or be turned around.” Josephine would be annoyed, but only if she found out. A single traveler, Cassandra assumed, wouldn’t be important enough to complain.

The figure moved closer, leading a horse. Tall. She couldn’t tell more yet, because of the enveloping cloak. It stopped just before moving into the fortress proper, long-fingered hands pushed the hood down, and Cassandra’s heart stopped. _GAYLAN._ The dark hair tied back simply, flint-grey eyes, oiled wood sticking past his right shoulder. _No. Regaylan is dead. His ashes lie with the Divine’s, above the ruins of Haven._ She looked at him more closely. Grey silvered his dark hair, and his face was weathered. The wood was a bow – she should have seen that at first. And there was a crest of some sort on his tunic, she saw as the wind gusted slightly.

“Identify yourself, traveler.” The sentry on duty did her job, relieving Cassandra of that task while she found her balance. “Nathaniel. Warden.” His gravelly voice made her itch, but was at least different than the youthful fire she’d been afraid of. *Uncomfortable man.* The sentry turned to see her. “Lady Cassandra, War…” The Look had worked on the Grand Clerics and Knight-Commanders. It worked on the sentry, who stopped, bowed and went back to the gate as quickly as she could.

“My Lady.” He bowed, as spare a movement as his words.

“I’m no lady here,” she snapped, then took a breath. “What do you need, Warden?” _How quickly can I get him out of here?_

He studied her for a moment, and gave a slight nod of his head. “I have messages for the Inquisitor, Nightingale and others. Warden Alistair and Sabah Hawke.”

 

“A Warden, carrying messages?”

He could see her suspicion, based on the quirk at the corners of his lips. “I was her second, Right Hand. She sent us away far enough to avoid the Calling. Messenger is better than dead.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened. Nathaniel…and connected to Amell. Howe – noble no longer, but still important. Damn. She would _not_ be able to get rid of him…and didn’t want to consider why that bothered her less than it should have. “Leliana – Sister Nightingale – is here. Hawke is dead, and Alistair to Weisshaupt.” A pause. “Follow me. There will be a bed somewhere, and a chance to clean up.”

 

**

 

She watched him practice. Leliana had taken his reports and spoke with him for some time about their old friend…and invited him to remain until Cullen and Safeyya returned. He was out at the butts every day, at dawn. Not that she followed him …it was a convenient time to train, that was all. “Do you only use a bow?”

He took his shot, then raised an eyebrow. “Weapons you can’t use will be turned against you.” He carefully unstrung the bow, and thanked the recruit who had collected the arrows. “A round?”

Not as good with his daggers, but respectable. She saluted after the bout. “I was asked to collect a deer or two.”

They brought back three, draped over the horses. She unloaded them at the kitchen, and turned to thank him – but he was gone. She shrugged, and went to the forge to clean up. There was usually a bucket for a quick wash in her room. Cassandra stripped her armor, and froze as she looked at the table. There, on her write-up of Adamant, a spray of snowdrops. Her fingers trembled as she fixed them into her braid, their delicate scent just above her temple.

 

**

 

She found a single columbine, deep purple around the white throat, the next morning, tied to the ladder to her quarters. At the butts, she asked. “Why?” With him, she’d discovered, she didn’t need the extra words everyone else expected.

“A beautiful woman deserves beautiful things.” His eyes weren’t flint-grey, not the cold stone she had thought. She could see the storm, intense but contained, as everything about him. His long fingers reached out to stroke a petal, brushing against her hair. “All beauty has strength, here in the mountains.”

“This can’t continue, Warden. I am likely to be the next Divine. That is the role the Maker has chosen for me.”

He turned away, and her heart sank, even though it shouldn’t. “Come scout with me, Seeker. The land here calls to me.”

She shrugged. “I have nothing I cannot put off until this evening, I suppose. Captain Mornay has returned, and can handle routine matters.”

 

**

 

Hours later, he spoke. “I prefer solitude, these days.” He gestured to a convenient boulder, and Cassandra sat, oddly nervous. “If you wish my attentions to stop, tell me and I will.” He raised an eyebrow. “Given how others stared at the flowers, I assumed more than I should have.”

“It’s not that. I have duties, and I cannot set them aside for selfish desires.” She could hardly believe what was coming out of her mouth, and blushed. “I…it is not that..I do not mean…” She stumbled to a halt as his lips quirked, the same spare smile she had seen the day he came.

“Cassandra.” His voice caressed the sounds of her name, the first time he had spoken it. “If anyone can understand the fleeting nature of things, it is a Warden. We live hard, short lives, in darkness and pain.” He looked away as his long fingers caressed the new buds on a spruce. Its scent intensified. “Is it selfish to desire pleasure? Perhaps. But without joy, why duty?” His voice was detached, but she could see the tension in his broad shoulders. For some reason, this mattered to him.

She stood. “You do not speak of passing a few hours of pleasure, Nathaniel, whatever your words.” His head moved, almost imperceptible except to the woman who had been studying him for the past four days. “Why this? Why me?” She hid the pain as always. She could use a mirror, and knew what the years and duty had done to her.

“If others do not see your beauty, it is their loss.” His hand left the spruce, touched the columbine again, trailed down her ear and neck as he met her eyes. “Strength and passion, untamed and sharply carved.” She blushed at his sudden eloquence, so unexpected. His thumb came back up, and brushed her cheekbone. “You are beautiful to me.” Her lips parted as he brushed his across them. “But we should get back, should we not?” There was a lightning-flash through his eyes, a slight shift of his lip, so close to hers.

“Soon enough.”


End file.
